


The Orchid

by apicturewithasmile



Category: Lost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, I'm hesitant to tag much bc spoilers, M/M, anyway..., attempted plant genocide, forgot to tag that this include a cameo by my actual boyfriend's car, sex in an unusual place, the thing I'm most proud of in this may actually be Tom Friendly, think You've Got Mail but flowers instead of books, who was so much fun to write!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apicturewithasmile/pseuds/apicturewithasmile
Summary: Benjamin Linus doesn't just own any ordinary flower shop - The Orchid is a real paradise for fans of tropical houseplants. But when a garden centre opens its gates in the neighbourhood Ben is in danger of being put out of business. The real problem though is the fact that his rival is also tall, bald and handsome.
Relationships: Benjamin Linus/John Locke
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	1. The Customer

Tom is scraping the last crumbs of ground coffee into the filter and Ben instinctively rolls his eyes in response. The problem isn’t that Tom hangs around The Orchid all day, every day, drinking an ungodly amount of coffee. The problem is that he’s Ben’s friend and that means Ben can neither throw him out nor tell him to buy his own damn coffee. That would be rude. Maybe he’d need to sabotage his own coffee machine to bring an end to Tom’s freeloading caffeine consumption, Ben thinks. He’d keep that in the back of his mind as a measure of last resort.

“You have to put coffee on the shopping list,” Tom says after switching the coffee machine on.

Ben clicks his tongue. “You are aware I’m running a flower shop, not a Starbucks, right?”

“Maybe you should change your line of business,” Tom says. “Then this place wouldn’t run out of coffee as quickly as it does.”

The Orchid was Ben’s pride and joy ever since he bought it from the previous owners, Mr. and Mrs. Kwon, five years ago. Back then it was a very common florist, mostly selling cut flowers and a small selection of houseplants, but when Ben took over he turned it into a paradise for enthusiasts of exotic and tropical plants.

Most prominently there is one wall entirely dedicated to displaying different varieties of orchids, over forty of them – the shop has to live up to its name after all. But delicate plants like that often come at a higher price and demand a lot of know-how, so for the occasional walk-in customer Ben also has some more mundane houseplants to offer, most of which he propagates himself in a small greenhouse out on the yard behind the shop.

Underneath the ceiling Ben had created a living baldachin of vines. They meander along a network of hooks and wires, and after five years of careful and strategic pruning the canopy has gotten so dense that one could barely see the white plastered ceiling through it.

For a while The Orchid had been doing so well that Ben hired a part-time employee – Ethan Rom, a young man who is almost as enthusiastic about plants as he is about functional outdoor attire. But now the shop is struggling more and more each month. Ben doesn’t want to let Ethan go but it is only a matter of weeks until he won’t be able to pay him anymore. Ethan knows this but, hopeful fool that he is, he refuses to look for a new job.

The coffee machine is noisily turning Ben’s money into Tom’s favourite beverage and Ben starts his daily routine of plant care – watering, pruning, removing dead leaves. As per usual, Tom is entertaining him by giving a colourful review of some new opera or concert he had been to and which Ben could never afford to get tickets for.

Half an hour later Ethan enters the shop through the backdoor. He is wearing his usual neon orange windbreaker with the reflective elbow patches. At first glance one might assume Ethan is the bike-riding type but the truth is far from it. He prefers to take the bus and just has a terrible fashion sense. Tom never passes an opportunity to poke fun at that.

“Unbelievable!” Ethan says as he takes off his shoulder bag that looks like an animal print and camouflage hybrid – for some inexplicable reason it is also specked with reflective stickers. He pulls a piece of paper from his bag and waves it through the air. He makes it theatrically obvious that he’s appalled. “They are handing these out at the bus station.”

Ben is in the front of the shop but he overhears all of it. He climbs off his step-ladder and walks to the back, disposing of a scrunched up ball of dried leaves on the way. “What is it?”

“They’re opening a garden centre next month. Just a few blocks down the road,” Ethan says and hands Ben a flyer that reads:

_Oceanic Gardens Megastore  
“a place where miracles happen”  
grand opening – September 22nd  
15% opening weekend discount_

Ben shakes his head. Despite holding the undeniable and unfortunate proof in his hand, he can’t believe it. “That’s it. That’s the proverbial nail in my coffin.”

“Calm down, Ben.” Tom downs the last sip of his coffee; somehow he is already on his second cup. “You’re the only florist in a hundred mile radius who sells these beautiful high-quality plants. No garden centre could ever compete with that!”

“There’s no way I can keep the prices lower than them, Tom!” Ben sighs. “The average customer doesn’t understand the difference between mass-produced junk and a plant that will actually live for more than a couple of months.”

“Maybe we could buy some ad space in the local newspaper,” Ethan suggests.

“Or start selling cut flowers again,” Tom adds.

The wind chimes above the entrance alert Ben to the arrival of a customer. He is glad that he can leave the doomsday discussions to Tom and Ethan and walks to the front of the shop to greet a tall bald man. He’s dressed in jeans and a tight white t-shirt – a simple look but it suits him. Ben notices his arms and has to clear his throat to remind himself that he’s at work. He needs to sell something, ideally something expensive. A single customer won’t save this place but he has to start somewhere.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?” Ben asks.

“This is impressive,” the man says, pointing at the blanket of greenery above his head. His mouth hangs open and it seems he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. “You got yourself a little indoor jungle here.”

“Thanks,” Ben says, still able to put the smile of an accomplished entrepreneur on his lips despite the bad news of a looming rival that will soon put him out of business. “Epipremnum aureum or, more easily, pothos – admittedly not as impressive as it looks. It’s very easy to maintain, the perfect beginner’s plant.”

That is the moment when the customer looks directly at Ben for the first time and Ben’s heart suddenly beats a little faster and he finds it hard to keep the eye contact and even harder to look away. So many different shades of green in a day in the life of Benjamin Linus and yet the eyes of this man look unlike any green that Ben has ever seen.

“Are you looking for a specific plant?” Ben asks. He awkwardly realises that he’s still holding the flyer from the garden centre in his hand. He crumples it and throws it in the trash behind the counter.

“I’m not sure,” the customer says. He points at a group of plants on a display table in the middle of the shop. “These look funny. What are they called?”

“Anthuriums,” Ben says with an ever-growing smile. “Or flamingo plants. My personal favourites – though you mustn’t tell the orchids.” He whispers the last part and shields his mouth with a hand so the orchids can’t hear him. He doesn’t actually believe that plants have the ability to understand what people say but he’s come to accept that his customers expect a certain level of quirkiness from him and he is willing to play along if it helps the business.

“Do you like them?” Ben asks. “This one is twenty dollars. The smaller ones cost twelve.”

“I’m not sure. Are they exotic?” He holds one of the red leaves between his fingers and rubs the waxy surface with cautious curiosity. Mentally Ben counts the seconds to make sure he doesn’t stare at the man’s hands for too long.

“Well…” Ben clears his throat like he imagines a professor would before starting a lecture. Even after all these years and with the threat of bankruptcy on the horizon he is still as keen as ever to teach someone about plants, especially someone who seems so interested and – Ben finally has to admit – quite attractive. “They’re from South America and come in many different varieties, though most commonly sold as houseplants are these ones with the red spathe and a white or yellowish spadix – that is the little—” Ben points at the circa two inch long spike growing from the middle of the bright red leaf and wonders how to describe it without using a phallic euphemism. “—that little thingy up here.”

“I see. I was actually looking for something a bit more… special?”

“I do have a much rarer variety in my office. I’ll sell it to you if you like it,” Ben says. “Wait here, I’ll go get it.”

Ben steps behind the counter and through to backroom. What Ben thinks of as his office, is also the kitchen in Tom’s mind and a storage room to Ethan. The three men barely all fit in it at the same time and Ben has to squeeze himself past Ethan to get to his desk at the far end where the plant in question resided.

Ethan looks shocked. “Are you serious?” he whispers. “This plant is your baby, Ben! You can’t sell him that.”

Ben takes a quick glance through to the front of the shop to make sure the customer is out of earshot. “You want to stay employed for another month, Ethan?” he hisses at him. “Then I suppose we’re all going to have to make some sacrifices here from now on.”

Then he turns to Tom, who is pouring himself another cup – Ben lost count. “That includes you, Tom. From now on you’ll have to buy your own coffee powder. I’m more than happy to let you use my coffee machine to make it but I can’t buy it for you anymore. Got that?”

Tom swallows, then he nods slowly and silently. He looks almost terrified of Ben.

“And while we’re at it: do us all a favour and go decaf! I don’t want to be the one who has to call an ambulance when you have a heart attack one day.”

Another silent nod from Tom before he sheepishly looks down into his coffee mug.

Ben puts his smile back on and returns to the front of the shop where he presents the special anthurium to the customer. Instead of one solid colour the spathe leaf is marbled in white and peach, and the spadix is a glowing red in a shape that is more reminiscent of a pig’s tail than genitalia. “Here she is. I’ve had her since she was just a little baby cutting.”

“It’s beautiful. How much?” The costumer asks and reaches for his wallet.

That’s when the regret kicks in and Ben realises that Ethan was right. In a desperate attempt to sabotage the sale and keep his plant he hears himself claiming eighty dollars for it. That should put the customer off, he hopes. But much to Ben’s surprise – as well as Tom’s and Ethan’s who are not very subtly observing the situation from behind the counter – the customer pulls a credit card from his wallet.

“Do you accept Visa?”

Ben stops breathing for a moment, then sighs in defeat. “Sure.” He carries the anthurium to the counter and tells Ethan to pack it up while he processes the card transaction.

“Don’t worry,” the customer says as he signs the receipt. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“With a little finesse and patience you can propagate it,” Ben says. “Gives you an almost endless supply of plants.”

“Wouldn’t that make this one less special?”

Ben disagrees instantly, vehemently. “It doesn’t matter how common or rare a plant is. What makes it special is the love and care that you put into it.”

The customer smiles with the profound satisfaction of a man who just learned an unexpected lesson in life.

“All packed and ready to go,” Ethan says and pushes a large paper bag over the counter.

The customer thanks them, says goodbye and is just about to leave the shop when Ben runs after him.

“Wait!” he says, then gives the man a handful of little plastic sachets. “Fertilizer. Give her half a pack mixed with one litre of room temperature water. It’s absolutely vital that you do not over-fertilize! Every other week should suffice. And if you can get a filter to reduce the lime content in the tab water that would be truly ideal.”

“Thank you, Mr.—?” the customer says. He offers a hand to shake.

“Ben. Benjamin Linus.” He gives the man’s hand a gentle squeeze and is a little more at peace, now that he felt the hands that will take care of his plant from now on. “And you are?”

“John Locke.”

“Pleasure to meet you, John.”


	2. Shoot

Two weeks ago when John Locke first visited The Orchid his plan had been to properly introduce himself, but once he had entered the shop and saw how special it was, it dawned on him that he wasn’t going to get a royal welcome in this place if he told them who he was. And when Benjamin threw away the flyer, oblivious to the fact that he was standing opposite the owner of the Oceanic Gardens megastore, John opted for conflict avoidance.

Now he regrets having played the dumb customer who knows nothing about plants. But he can’t stay away either. He makes a habit of walking past the flower shop on his way to the construction site. He peeks through the window almost every day with an increasingly loud hope of catching a glimpse of Benjamin this time. And whenever luck is on his side they exchange a nodding acknowledgement of their loose acquaintance _– hey, it’s me, the anthurium guy. Remember me?_ – followed by an unspoken contest of who would stop smiling first.

One day when John walks around the street corner he sees Ben outside The Orchid, sitting on a wooden bench.

“Hello, Benjamin.”

“John!” Ben says and covers his mouth as he speaks. In the other hand he’s holding a jelly doughnut. “What a nice surprise. Please, take a seat.”

“I don’t want to bother you on your lunch break,” John says. It’s a lie. Of course he wants to bother him. But there’s not much space left on the bench; a rhododendron occupies about a third of it and John doesn’t know if it would be appropriate to sit so close to this man who is little more than a stranger to him.

“You’re not a bother! I insist!” Ben says. He puts his doughnut away and much to John’s relief lifts the plant in its terracotta pot off the bench and puts it on the ground.

John sits and turns to Ben. From this position he can just about see the crane in the distance that was hired to install a large neon sign above the front entrance of his garden centre. Only one month left till the grand opening.

“How’s your anthurium doing?” Ben asks.

“Great. It’s growing a new shoot.” John is quite proud of that, even more so when he sees Ben’s eyes lighting up. He suddenly wishes there was a rhododendron behind his back to push him closer to Ben.

Ben bites his lower lip and John can’t help but take note of the two thin scars that fan out from it. He doesn’t remember the last time he looked at someone’s lips so carefully, let alone the last time he wanted to— He stops himself from finishing the thought. Better not go there.

“I have to admit, I feel terrible about it,” Ben says. “I charged you way more than the plant was worth.”

John knows that of course. Being in the same line of business means he’s familiar with the wholesale prices. And yet he was still willing to pay eighty dollars for one plant. Whenever he sees the anthurium sitting on the shelf behind his desk he wonders if it was Ben’s charming enthusiasm that made him spend that much money so easily or if he was simply trying to bribe himself out of a bad conscience when he bought it.

“It’s okay,” John says. “I figured. But I like supporting small businesses.”

Ben laughs. It’s a cynical laugh, not a happy one. “How I wish there were more people like you.”

“Are there not?”

“No. Believe it or not: you were our only customer that day. It wasn’t always like that. But somehow the people stopped coming and I don’t know why.” In the distance above Ben’s head the crane lifts a giant logo up in the air – a stylised O in different shades of blue, with a ring of pink dots surrounding it. “But I do know that once that megalomaniac garden centre down the road opens its gates to the public, it’s goodbye Orchid forever.”

The guilt falls heavy in John’s stomach but before he can try to formulate a response another man approaches the shop, waving at them with a pack of ground coffee in his hand.

“Hello, Tom.” Ben says.

“Gentlemen,” Tom says, winks at Ben and then vanishes into the shop without another word.

“One of your employees?” John asks.

“No. A good friend,” Ben says. “He would love to turn this place into a coffee shop but I keep telling him: I’m a florist, not a barista.”

“You don’t like coffee?”

“Oh, I do. But—”

“You’re a florist, not a barista.”

Ben claps his hands together. “Exactly. Plus, do you have any idea how many coffee shops there are already in this neighbourhood? It would just be another unviable business model.”

John shrugs. “Maybe you’re right,” he says, thinking that Ben might just as well be wrong about that.

“I fear I’ll have to go back inside and make sure Tom isn’t wreaking havoc in there. But since we’re on the topic of coffee shops,” Ben says as he cautiously puts a hand on John’s knee, “I wonder if you’d do me the honour of allowing me to invite you to one some time?”

He’s unsure for a moment what to make of this but somewhere between the eloquent choice of words and the weight of Ben’s touch, John realises that he has just been asked out on a date. A speechless nod is all he has to offer in reply, while knowing full well that he can never go through with it, not without having to reveal his secret and ruining his every chance of getting to know Ben better.

Ben reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pencil and a scrunched up piece of paper which he flattens against his thigh as best he can. He writes down his phone number, folds it twice and puts it into John’s palm. “Call me!”

* * *

Two more weeks pass by without a trace of John Locke since Ben asked him out. He regrets not having suggested a time and place right there and then but he had been hopeful and stupid enough to assume John would just show up one day after closing hours and sweep him off his feet.

Maybe he had come off too needy and desperate, Ben thinks. Maybe if he had played it more casual, if he hadn’t touched him the way he did, if he hadn’t looked into those green eyes so longingly then John would still walk by the shop every day.

Or maybe none of that matters and Tom is right when he says this is yet another case of Benjamin Linus crushing on a straight man and John had simply been too polite to decline his advances right away.

But then one day when Ben comes to work in the morning he finds a cardboard box on the welcome mat of the backdoor. His name is written on it but no address. Someone must’ve dropped it off here in person.

He takes it inside and when he opens it he finds a fresh offshoot from the anthurium he had sold to John, planted in a porcelain pot that perfectly matches its colour. Attached to the pot is a note that reads: “Benjamin, I’m sorry. I’ve been very busy. I fear our coffee will have to wait till October. In the meantime I hope my first successful propagation keeps you company! JL”

With all the existential dread that dominates Ben’s life, this is the small glimmer of hope he so desperately needs. He decides that he’s going to take the young anthurium home with him – it shall be the first thing he sees when he wakes up – but until then he puts it right next to the coffee machine where Tom will see it and be forced to admit that there is no heterosexual explanation for this.


	3. Grand Opening

September 22nd comes fast and with it the opening date of the Oceanic Gardens megastore. There is a bouncy castle for the kids, 15% discount for the parents and a hot dog stand for the whole family.

Ben wants to witness the spectacle from a safe distance. With Tom and Ethan in tow he stands at the edge of the parking lot and observes the scene as the first eager customers arrive almost half an hour before the ribbon gets cut.

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself,” says Tom, shaking his head at every new car that pulls up the driveway.

“Because I suspect the owner or CEO or whoever’s in charge will give a speech and if this is the beginning of the end then at least I want to see their face,” Ben says, making no attempt at hiding the bitterness in his voice.

At precisely 11am a handsome young man in his early twenties steps up to a podium.

“That can’t be the owner,” says Ethan. “That kid is younger than me!”

“Let’s get a closer look,” Tom says and the three of them push their way through the crowd up to the front row.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the young man begins. “Welcome! My name is Boone Carlyle, I’m the assistant sales manager here at Oceanic Gardens – or as we like to call it: a place where miracles happen. I know you are all eager to have a look inside but before we let you in, the founder of our fine company would like to say a few words, so let’s hear it for my boss – Mr. John Locke.”

Ben feels the weight of his heart sink into his knees. He’s nauseous; he can’t believe his ears and much less his eyes when he sees John walk up to the microphone.

“Isn’t that—?” Tom begins to say but his voice gets drowned out in the raging applause from the audience.

“Thank you, Boone!” John says to the young man, then he turns to the audience. “And a warm welcome to all of you, thank you for showing up to our grand opening and turning this day into something truly special. And we couldn’t have picked a more beautiful day, could we?!” John looks up to the clear blue sky, closes his eyes for a moment before looking back at the audience.

He’s right. It really would be a beautiful late summer’s day if it weren’t for the overwhelming sense of betrayal that takes hold of every single one of Ben’s thoughts.

“Now, I’m not going to bore you with a long speech,” John continues, “but I’d just quickly like to thank everyone who worked so hard to fulfil this dream of mine and I hope that I can pay it back by helping all of you to make your garden dreams come true.”

More cheers and applause from the audience, then John looks straight at Ben and falls silent.

Ben just about manages to take his eyes off the traitor before tears start running down his face. He turns away and makes his way back through the crowd. He doesn’t register Tom and Ethan calling out for him or the confused chatter of the audience as John’s speech comes to an abrupt ending.

He reaches the edge of the crowd when someone grabs his arm from behind. When he turns around he sees John again, too close for comfort.

“Benjamin! Please wait, let me explain.” John gasps for air and Ben despises it – how dare he be out of breath over this. Ben is the one who’s being suffocated and John has the audacity to run after him and _pant_?

“Explain?” Ben scoffs, pulling his arm away from John. “What the hell is there to explain? This is your idea of supporting small businesses, isn’t it?! I can’t believe…” Ben’s breaths come heavy and his throat hurts as he tries to keep more tears from welling. “I thought you were one of the good guys.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” John says. “I swear. I just never found the right moment to tell you.”

“Of course you didn’t. I doubt there is ever a right moment to confess to industrial espionage, John!”

“That’s not—” John wipes his forehead. He’s frantically pacing from left to right. “That was never my intention, you have to believe me!”

By now Ben’s whole body is hurting as he fights against the urge to break down and sob. But he manages, somehow, like he always does, to appear in control. “You were never gonna have that coffee with me, were you?”

“No, I was! Benjamin, please. I have a great idea for The Orchid, please let me—”

In the meantime Tom and Ethan have also made it out of the crowd. They observe the situation for a moment but Tom quickly jumps into action. He places himself between the two. He shields Ben, points a finger at John and puts on his most threatening face. “You stay away from him, you bald-headed asshole!”

“That’s none of your business, Tom. It’s between Ben and me,” John says.

“There is nothing between us, John!” Ben replies, slowly taking backwards steps away from him. “There never was and there never will be.”

* * *

Three men sit silently in their office slash kitchen slash storage room. Ethan flicks through a catalogue of outdoor wear that he won’t be able to afford much longer. For the first time in years Tom does not make coffee. Ben is staring at the empty space on his desk left by an anthurium that he sold to a man who tricked him into feeling special.

“I’m going to destroy him,” Ben mutters eventually. “Will you help me?”


	4. Bad Command Decisions

It’s a rainy new moon at precisely midnight and Ethan holds an umbrella for Ben who is trying to override the alarm system.

“I suppose it’s best not to ask why you know how to do this.” Ethan says. He’s dressed in all black and Ben is pretty certain that’s the first time he has ever seen Ethan wear something dark and non-reflective.

“YouTube tutorial,” Ben says and a few seconds later a red LED turns to green and the alarm is disabled. “Voila!”

Ben’s plan is rather simple: Break into the garden centre at night, over-fertilize the plants, don’t get caught and then sit tight and wait for the payoff. It would take some time until the plants start showing any tell-tale signs; they’d still look healthy and fresh in store but give them a couple of days on grandma’s windowsill and the leaves will start to brown and wilt and die. Then cue the complaints, refunds, negative online reviews from angry customers who were sold bad product.

Ben glances at his watch. Five minutes past midnight. “Where the hell is Tom?”

As if on cue an old Volkswagen Polo pulls around the corner, lights out. Ben can’t tell if it’s rust-coloured or rusty. The passenger door opens and Tom steps out of it.

“Who’s that?” asks Ben. He tries to look through the windscreen but all he can make out is a yellow magic tree that’s dangling from the rear view mirror.

“That’s just my buddy Mikhail. I asked him to stand guard and keep the motor running in case we have to fuck off quickly.” Tom says. “Don’t worry, we can trust him.”

“Mikhail?” Ben takes a step closer to get a better look inside the car. “Isn’t that the guy with the eye patch?”

“Yes! Right! I forgot, you guys met at my birthday last year,” Tom says with a giddy kind of enthusiasm in his voice and zero nerves about the upcoming criminal offence.

“You’re telling me our get-away driver has only one eye?”

At that Mikhail leans out of the window and in a thick Russian accent says: “Lucky for you it is my good eye.”

Ben closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It helps only marginally to mute the creeping suspicion that he would have been better off doing this on his own. “Okay, whatever. Let’s do this.”

* * *

“I don’t understand why we had to bring our own fertilizer,” Ethan whispers while he tightens the straps of his backpack for the third time. “That stuff is heavy. Why don’t we just steal theirs?”

“And risk them noticing the missing bottles?” Ben answers. “We can’t leave even the smallest trace that we were here, you hear me? Or this was all for nothing.”

Ethan nods which no one sees in the eerie darkness of the massive store. The only light comes from their torches. They make their way through aisles full of shovels, rakes, hoses and planters and eventually they reach the central hall of the store where they keep the house plants – hundreds of them.

“Here we are,” Tom says and stretches the last word out into a heartfelt yawn.

Ben points his torch at him. “Tom, I swear to God, if you fall asleep on the job—”

“Hey! I was only following orders,” Tom says. “ _You_ told me to go decaf, remember?”

Ben doesn’t grace that with an answer. Instead he instructs his partners in crime to focus on the tropical plants and start with the biggest and thus most expensive ones first. “This is a highly concentrated chemical fertilizer, so make sure to put gloves on and don’t get that stuff in your eyes. You have twenty minutes, then I want to be out of here.”

“Wait. What are _you_ going to do?” Ethan asks.

“I’m going to break into Locke’s office and see if I can find a few skeletons in his closet.”

* * *

John’s office isn’t hard to find. A flight of metal stairs leads up to a room with large windows from where the entire garden centre can be overlooked. Ben keeps a skeleton key ready but finds the door unlocked. He could probably get away with turning the lights on in here but decides to better be safe than sorry. With his torch he can make out a desk on the far end of the room. It looks chaotic, to say the least.

He takes a seat in the office chair and resists the instinct to adjust it to his height. He finds John’s laptop underneath a pile of folders and documents and switches it on. It demands a password.

He rolls his eyes. _Of course it’s password protected. What did you expect, Linus?_ He flips the laptop upside down to see if John was careless enough to write the magic word on the underside but to no avail. He inspects some of the personal items on the desk in the hopes of finding a clue. He pegs John for a sentimental man, someone who uses the name of their first pet as a password, or perhaps the birthday of a spouse. It hadn’t occurred to Ben until now that John may actually be married.

There is a framed photograph of John and the young man who introduced him at the grand opening event – Ben doesn’t remember his name – standing side by side on a beach and smiling into the camera; an old compass is lying right next to a wooden tray which holds a couple of pens, a Swiss Army knife and a key chain in the shape of an airplane.

He points his torch at the walls and swivels around in the office chair. Another, much larger photograph of presumably the same beach is hanging on the wall behind the desk; next to it hangs a certificate for winning first price in a knife throwing contest that took place in 2004 in Honolulu.

He tries “Honolulu” as a password, but has no luck with that nor with any other Hawaiian word he can think of. He studies the room again and this time notices a plant sitting on a shelf just above the desk – an anthurium; _his_ anthurium. It seems to be thriving and Ben isn’t sure how he feels about that. Relieved? Jealous? Both; like seeing your ex being happy with a new partner.

Some instinct makes him reach for the anthurium and pick it up – just to make sure it is really doing okay. And as he lifts the pot he sees a folded piece of paper that had been hidden underneath it. He grabs it and as soon as he feels the unnaturally smooth texture of thermal paper between his fingers he knows what it is: a receipt for a jelly doughnut from the bakery that he walks by on his way to work every day. And on the back of it, written with a dull pencil, the numbers 481-516-2342 – his phone number.

He swallows the lump that builds up in his throat and sits down at the desk one more time. His fingers rest on the keyboard for a while. He has a gut feeling but he’s afraid of the implications if it turns out to be true. Only one way to find out. He types his phone number into the computer and presses the enter key — success! Or something that is supposed to feel like it but instead bears a striking resemblance to guilt.

But Ben continues. He’s come this far, he’s not turning back now. The desktop background is the Oceanic Gardens logo and just like John’s actual desk this digital one looks cluttered and chaotic. He opens the file explorer and scrolls through a couple of the subfolders until one particular one catches his eye – “Orchid Café Business Plan”. There are four documents, he opens the one titled “Exposé” and starts reading.


	5. Good Emotional Responses

John wakes up to the sound of his mobile phone ringing in a tune he doesn’t associate with anything. It’s neither his usual ringtone nor his alarm clock. He rubs his eyes with one hand and can’t find the light switch with the other so he grabs the phone in the dark and reads the notification on a blindingly bright screen. Then he jumps to his feet. Someone is trying to access his work computer.

He opens the security app that Boone had installed for him and clicks on the little surveillance camera logo that could remotely activate the webcam in his laptop. The live feed is taking its time to load while John takes his landline phone off the nightstand and begins dialling 911. He hangs up immediately when he sees who the culprit is.

* * *

Ben runs down the metal staircase, almost falls over his own feet. He’s frantically yelling at Tom and Ethan to stop what they were doing.

“What?” Ethan asks.

“We’re finished with the houseplants,” Tom says proudly, not registering what Ben is saying. “I was just going to get started with the outdoor department.”

“No! Don’t!” Ben feels pure undiluted panic take over when the light of his torch falls onto an array of empty fertilizer bottles next to a display table full of monstera plants. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“What’s going on?” Tom asks. A phone starts buzzing in his jacket and he tries every single one of its many pockets until he finds it. “Shit! That’s Mikhail. Someone’s coming.”

Ethan is the first one to drop everything and run back the way they came – so much for not leaving any trace.

Tom at least still has the presence of mind to shove the empty bottles back into Ethan’s backpack and throw it over his shoulder. Then he turns to Ben who stands rooted to the spot. “Ben, for fuck’s sake, we have to run!” He’s trying to pull him by the arm but Ben doesn’t budge. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Tom says.

Ben doesn’t get a chance to answer. With a flickering electric hum the lights go on in the entire store and illuminate the full scope of his crime: a mass grave of organisms whose destiny is sealed, still living and breathing while they feed off the earth that’s supposed to kill them. The morbidity renders him speechless.

* * *

The first thing John hears is the squeaking noise of rubber soles on vinyl flooring; when he flips the master light switch that noise comes to a screeching halt and reveals itself to be coming from the shoes of a man who is now standing just five feet away from John. He looks familiar but John needs a moment to recognise him as Ben’s employee.

“Hello there,” John says calmly. “You’re Ethan, right?”

Ethan doesn’t respond. In fact he doesn’t even move at all, frozen in his spot like a prey animal that pretends to be invisible.

“Where is he?” John asks. “Where’s Benjamin?”

Still no reaction, some nervous blinking aside.

“I’ll let you go if you tell me.” John takes a slow and calculated step forward, fully prepared to react quickly if Ethan tries to scarper. “I’ll find him sooner or later anyway but it’s up to you whether or not I call the police.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Ben says and steps out from behind a shelf. He holds his hands up as if this is a bank robbery and he needs to prove that he’s unarmed.

“There you are.” John can’t help but smile, just a little, before he contains himself again. “I think it’s time we have a talk.”

“Let my friends go and we can talk all night,” Ben says. He lowers his hands, transforms a defensive gesture into a much more begging one. “Please, John! This is between you and me.”

John forces himself to look away. He can’t focus on his own thoughts when Ben’s eyes are saying a thousand words to him. Why hasn’t he called the police already? Isn’t that what normal people do when someone breaks into their property? And yet John’s instinct had been to drive to the scene of the crime, alone and unarmed, because all he sees is a second chance; a chance to be even.


	6. Where Miracles Happen

They sit opposite each other on a set of wooden garden chairs in the garden furniture department not saying anything for a while. But when Ben eventually breaks the silence, his confession is straightforward. “I poisoned your plants. And I broke into your computer.”

“Did you find anything interesting on it?” John asks.

“Maybe?” Ben says. His mouth is unable to settle on a word to say next. He presses his lips together. There is so much tension in his expression that his cheeks flush with pink. “Don't you want to know _why_ I did it?” he says, balancing every word on the tip of his tongue to prevent his voice from shattering to pieces.

“Is it because you wanted to hurt me?”

Ben nods, followed by a soundless “yes”.

“Then I suppose that makes us even,” says John, not holding back his instinct to smile this time.

But Ben isn’t ready to be forgiven so easily. “No, it doesn’t,” he says. “You didn’t _mean_ to hurt me. I went into this with the full intention of making your life miserable.”

“That’s right,” John says. “I didn’t mean to and yet I did it anyway. And maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal the first day we met but when you asked me out and I said yes? I should’ve come clean then.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I…” He hesitates, not sure if he even fully understands it himself. “I thought it would make you hate me and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

Ben starts crying. This time he doesn’t try to hold it back. He knows it has to come out, like a fever that has to run its course – you can’t keep it down forever.

On Ben’s trembling lips John notices them again – those scars that had caught his eye once before. He remembers how the August sun reflected off of them when Ben smiled at him and suddenly John knows that it’s not too late to go back to that moment. He leans forward and cups Ben’s face with the palm of his hand. He lets the tears run over his fingers until Ben calms under his touch. Then he pulls him closer and kisses him. Just like he had wanted to kiss him the first time he saw him and all the times he saw him after that.

They kiss until the tears are dry and Ben smiles again. They look at each other and say nothing; they’ve kissed each other out of words. John wants to kiss again but suddenly Ben jumps out of his chair.

“Oh my God, I have an idea!” Ben says.

“What?”

“It’s not too late,” Ben says and rushes back to the battlefield of poisoned plants. “I can still save them!”

John follows him but doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“I just have to replant them in fresh soil,” Ben says. “They can’t possibly have absorbed all the fertilizer yet, it’s only been an hour. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of that sooner.”

“That…” John rubs the back of his head as he tries to comprehend the extent of that rescue mission. The financial damage of a hundred, maybe two hundred unsellable plants really wasn’t that big in the grand scheme of things and he’d much rather focus his attention back on Ben’s mouth. “That sounds like a hell of a lot of work.”

Ben turns to him, grabs his hands and holds them between both of his. “I have to fix this, John. Please let me fix it,” he says.

John sighs. “Only if you let me help you.”

* * *

Ben is kneeling on a tarp and gently loosens the root system of an anthurium, then he pulls it out of its pot and removes as much of the tainted soil as possible. He has repotted many plants in his life, it’s a task as mundane as it can get for him, and yet tonight it feels life-changing.

In the meantime John wanders the aisles of his garden centre to get fresh soil. It’s supposed to be a quick errand but on the way he finds an unwanted surge of anxiety that slows him down. The reality finally sinks in that he kissed Ben and it frightens him how much he wants him. It seems dangerous to know what those lips feel like because now there’s the risk of never feeling them again. What if Ben doesn’t want to kiss again?

John doesn’t want to think about that. He tries to focus on the task at hand and loads a wheelbarrow with as many bags of soil as it can carry. When he gets back to Ben, the tarp is already half-covered in dirt and a pile of naked anthuriums that are waiting to be repotted.

“Quite the system you got there already.” John says. He is genuinely impressed. “I was only gone for five minutes.”

Ben laughs. “Yes. I always have a plan.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks and kneels down beside Ben.

“You can fill all these planters about halfway up with soil and when you’re done with that start putting the plants in,” Ben says. “And be careful! Some of these smaller ones have very delicate roots and we don’t want to hurt them.” But Ben knows that this isn’t the only layer of John’s question. There is another secret layer to it that demands an answer, too. “You could also kiss me again, if you want to?”

John can’t find a coherent thought in the midst of mental chaos. He doesn’t understand why the second kiss is so much harder than the first. “Do you really want that?” he manages to say eventually.

“Are you serious?” Ben puts a hand on John’s knee, the same hand and the same knee as on the day when he had asked him out for a coffee. “Of course I want to. I’ve wanted you since the first time you looked at me with those damn green eyes. But if you’d rather slow things down—”

“I don’t!” If anything, he wants to speed up. He leans forward and meets Ben half-way, waits for him to bridge the gap between their lips.

And Ben does, no hesitation, no second-guessing. He kisses John and John kisses him and they pull each other closer because there is no other option; there’s only them and the desire to exist with no space in between.

“Wait!” Ben says in a moment of clarity. “What about the plants?”

John laughs. “I’m sure they can wait a little while longer,” he says. “And if some of them don’t survive, I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

Ben thinks his goodbyes to the plants that won’t make it before he stands up. “Is there somewhere more comfortable that we can go?”

“Sure there is. Would you like to see the Dharma Gardens deluxe lounge sofa with extra soft cushions and adjustable backrest?”

Ben struggles to keep a straight face. John’s salesman voice sounds terribly cliché but Ben finds it almost poetic given that their first encounter was a sales talk. “Lead the way.”

And John leads. With his hand in the small of Ben’s back he directs him to the furniture department. It’s only a couple of yards, around the corner of the next aisle, just past the Tiki torches and string lights. The temptation to just jump each other right here and now grows almost unbearable but they make it to the sofa eventually.

Ben has to admit that it does look comfy – and expensive. “I won’t have to buy it afterwards, do I?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll write it off.”

From here on out Ben takes the reins. He pushes John onto the sofa and straddles him. Then he kisses the salt off John’s neck, holds on to him in a tight embrace as he rocks his hips against the bulge in John’s pants. _Not so fast_ , he tells himself; but at the same time he pulls at John’s tee, takes it off him. More skin to touch, to kiss, to bite, and preferably all at once.

John is rendered completely powerless. He kisses back when Ben’s mouth is close enough, caresses him when he remembers that he has hands and how to use them. But mostly he doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he’s going to crumble under the sheer force with which Ben makes love to him, but he lets it all happen – he wants to be crushed. He feels his erection grow harder underneath the pressure of Ben’s weight and it’s driving him crazy that it’s still not enough. He whimpers. He needs more.

“Do you want to take off your pants?” Ben asks him and John doesn’t waste any time answering. He’s eager to get naked – that’s new. What’s also new is having sex in a place that’s not his bedroom and with a partner who’s not a woman.

Ben gently pushes John’s legs apart and falls on his knees between them. His lips are walking a slow and winding path along the inside of John’s thighs until he begs to be devoured with every part of his body but his mouth.

He’s loud when he comes – he’s never been loud before – and it’s all over way too soon but he can’t control it. He doesn’t want to control it. His orgasm disorients him in space and displaces him in time. He tastes Ben’s lips but doesn’t know if the kiss is old or new.

When he returns to the present moment he sees that Ben is getting naked and it makes him nervous. He assumes that he’s expected to return the favour and suddenly his chest tightens. “I don’t think I can do this,” he says and means that he wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Ben stops in his tracks half-way out of his underpants and wonders if that was John’s way of saying he should put them back on. “Do what?”

“What you just did… I’ve never done that,” John says. Ben is now fully naked and John looks away. He can’t handle seeing how much he’s wanted. What if he disappoints?

“That’s okay. It’s fine,” Ben says. He sits down beside him, close to him. Their knees touch and it feels more intimate than anything they’ve done so far. He holds John’s face in his hand and traces his lips with the tip of his thumb; a kiss seems too risky now. He doesn’t want to be pushy. “You can do something else if you like. Or if you’d rather stop—”

“No!” It’s the one thing John certain of – he doesn’t want to stop. He almost says that he wants to make love, but he’s afraid of that word. “I want to take care of you,” he says instead and realises that it’s one and the same.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Now Ben risks a kiss and pulls John closer into a hug. It’s a bit clumsy but he manages to pull John down atop of him without letting go of his lips. “Then take care of me,” he whispers softly in John’s ear and shows him how.

* * *

“Do you really think The Orchid could work as a café?” Ben asks. He snuggles up to John who holds him tight so he doesn’t fall off the sofa. Absent-mindedly Ben’s fingertips draw invisible lines onto John’s chest.

“Ah, so that’s what you saw on my computer!” John says. “I do actually, yes. I think it would make the place really special.”

Ben lets that hang in the air for a moment and tries to recall the details of what he had uncovered during his sleuthing. It had all happened so fast and under the influence of a heavy adrenaline rush, so he isn’t sure now what exactly John’s business idea for The Orchid entails.

“Not that it isn’t special already,” John says, “but like you said: not enough people are coming in. But if they had another incentive to visit The Orchid, a caramel latte and a jelly doughnut for example, then they would see how beautiful your little jungle is and they would want to take some of that home with them.”

“A plant café…?” Ben mumbles, more to himself than to John.

“Now, I know: you’re not a barista, but—”

Ben’s head shoots up as he interrupts him. “I wouldn’t have to be. I’d leave the coffee making up to Tom.”

John laughs. “You think he’d like that job?”

“Are you kidding? The man has spent the last five years drinking my coffee for free. Imagine the look on his face when I tell him he could get paid to do it!”

“Well then,” John says and clears his throat, “how much do you need?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll have to make some renovations, buy furniture and a proper coffee machine, not to mention advertisement. All of that costs money and I want to give it to you.”

Ben holds his breath for a moment. When he read the exposé on John’s computer it hadn’t actually occurred to him that John would want to invest in it himself. “In exchange for what?”

John shrugs. “Your expertise. I could really use someone here to train my employees. Or the customers even, I’m sure plenty of people would be interested in gardening workshops.”

Ben purses his lips and looks away into the distance. He can’t decide whether or not he likes the idea of doing business with someone he just had sex with. “Can I sleep on it?”

“Sure. But first we have some plants to save!”


	7. Epilogue - The Orchid Café

The wind chimes over the door hardly stay silent these days. There’s a steady flow of customers – some of which come for the plants and stay for a quick coffee, others come for a coffee and leave with a bag full of greenery.

Tom is thriving in his role as chief barista despite his consequent abstinence from caffeine. He does pride himself on having found the best decaf coffee brand on the market though and against all odds it has become one of their best sellers.

Ethan – not as enthusiastic about serving hot drinks and bagels – has started working at Oceanic Gardens instead. With Ben’s blessing John had offered him a full-time job and Ethan is very much in his element there.

Between taking orders and giving plant care advice Ben flicks through a pile of job applications. He needs a waitress, preferably soon. He may be a man of many talents but waiting tables wasn’t one of them and he’d much rather focus on his new side-gig as a botanical educator at the garden centre.

But for the time being he bites the bullet, which is fine today because it’s Thursday and on Thursdays there is always a group of regulars coming in for breakfast. Ben has gotten friendly with them over the past few months and always enjoys a chat with them.

“There you go,” he says and puts a heavy tray down on their table by the window. “Another round of latte macchiato for the ladies and peppermint tea for James!”

“Thank you!” says one of the women. “I was just saying to Kate that I we should all come to your first workshop at Oceanic next weekend.”

“Yes,” says Kate. “It’ll be fun.”

Ben blushes with mild panic. He is already nervous enough about the workshop. “So I can embarrass myself in front of my friends?” he says and surprises himself by referring to them as his friends. “What have I ever done to you to deserve this, Juliet?”

“Oh, come on. We want to support you,” Juliet says.

He sighs in defeat. There’s no way he can get out of this. “Alright, I’ll let John know to put you on the guest list.”

“Speaking of which...” James says and gestures towards the door. “There comes your favourite cleaning agent.”

John waves to them; he knows the group well by now, too, but there’s no time today to join them. His and Ben’s paths cross at the counter.

Ben puts a tray full of used dishes in its designated spot before he gives John his undivided attention; the smile on his face is that of a little boy with mischief in mind. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asks.

“Just the usual,” John says.

“You heard the man, Tom. Large cappuccino and a jelly doughnut to go.”

“Almost ready!” Tom says. He had already started preparing John’s signature order the moment he spotted him through the window.

“That’s $5.40, please,” Ben says as he hammers the prices into the till.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” John says to Ben.

“I’d never,” Ben says. He leans over the counter and has to stand on the tips of his toes to reach for John’s shirt and pull him closer for a kiss. “That one’s on the house.”


End file.
